I needed him to be my world, my thought, the very air I breathed. I needed to bring him as much pleasure as he brought me, needed to make him as crazy...with passion as he was making me, needed to feel himself lose himself in the pleasure I offered him. Crying his name, I writhed against him, both offering and demanding, desperate with desire. Burying his face in my neck, he rolled us over, letting me straddle him, his handsholding my hips tight as he ground up against me. Settling me back, he. Now, Dad's not the hunky sort. He's actually pretty average. He's 42 years old and the hair on his chest is going grey, he has a slight potbelly, and even though he doesn't want to admit it, he's going bald. But, He has a great cock, and there it was, almost in my face. Even soft his dick hangs down about five inches, and is so fat it looks like a knockwurst! And the head on it?! Shit, that's about the size of a small onion! "Morning, Boy! It's all Yours!" He said, and when he did, I noticed. More

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